Deep Cover
by ramblingwords
Summary: Slightly AU. The Saints need to get information to make a move on the Deckers, but without any tech support they're forced to use more traditional methods of information gathering. True to Saints style, the boss of the Saints is forced to go undercover as a dancer at the Cyberlesque club. Possible FemBoss/Older Matt. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

**A/N: Alright so I got this idea after seeing a place called "Cyberlesque" while roaming around in SR3 in Decker turf, and I thought this might be a fun sort of plot to work with. You guys decide. Just to frame the story for you it's just the teeniest bit AU, the Saints haven't come into contact with Kinzie yet so they can't just hack into the Deckers' net to get info. They have to play a little bit dirty, more Saints-like, to get what they want. Also, Matt Miller's going to be about 21 years old at this point because it makes more sense considering the subject material and all that. Let me know how you guys feel about the story, and whether or not I should fix anything. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: The Plan**

"_I've really gotta get some more girls in my crew,"_ was the first thought that ran through the Saint's head as she gazed at her reflection in the full length mirror. Neon-light trimmed bikinis, she decided, really weren't her style. Neither were ripped fishnet leggings. Awkwardly, she wobbled on matching neon-trimmed platform boots over to the door leading from her room to the main foyer of the penthouse. "_Get a hold of yourself; you're a damned mob boss, for Christ's sake. Why are you letting something as stupid as parading around in a bikini make you nervous? It's hardly the worst thing you've done, after all,"_ she chided herself. Taking a deep steadying breath, an expression of sheer determination plastered across her face, she thrust open the door and strode into the living room where the rest of the gang was waiting.

Pierce, to his credit, waited about three seconds before he fell to the floor laughing hysterically, poker face long forgotten. Oleg did a better job hiding his amusement, muffling his involuntary chuckle with a polite series of coughs. And Shaundi? Well, Shaundi never was one for subtlety. She whistled lowly while slow-clapping in mock approval.

"You know boss, that's a good look for you. Maybe you should wear that the next time we crash another Decker rave. You might distract them long enough for us to wipe them out before they can get any shots off," she said, a sardonic half smile stretching across her face.

"Ha-ha, Shaundi, fucking _hilarious. _My sides are _splitting_. Now tell me again why _you're_ not the one wearing this god-awful getup?" the boss snapped back, her expression close to livid.

Shaundi raised her hands in mock surrender, "Now now, no need to get so testy! I already explained it to you, remember? You're one of the only women here we can really trust at the moment, and you sort of know how to dance…" Before the boss could protest, Shaundi cut her off once again, "…And you know I hurt my hip in that last Morningstar raid and I can't dance to save my life until it heals! You wouldn't endanger your crew unnecessarily, would you?" she queried, knowing she had the boss beat. The head Saint glowered, knowing full well the "injured hip" story was, for lack of a better term, complete bullshit. But the boss was always a self-sufficient woman, and as the old saying went, "If you want something done right, do it yourself and with as little clothes on as possible". Or something along those lines.

The plan was to get a Saint to infiltrate the infamous _Cyberlesque_ club, where high ranking Deckers were known to frequent, to get as much information about their operations as possible without raising suspicion. Since the Saints' computer skills were severely lacking, put lightly, they decided that the next best strategy was subterfuge on a more personal level. However, when the boss had agreed to the plan, she had no idea whatsoever that she would be the one doing the dirty work. After much protest and a fair amount of punches thrown, Pierce, Shaundi, and Oleg finally managed to get the boss into what she had not-so-affectionately dubbed "That Cyberslut Suit".

"So…" the boss finally ground out, sinking stiffly onto the plush couch, "I guess there's no point delaying the inevitable now. What else do we have to do to set this thing up?"

"Well, first things first," said Shaundi, whipping around and digging into a seemingly never-ending bag, "we're going to need to disguise your appearance a bit. Can't have one of the Deckers recognizing the leader of the Saints pole dancing up on stage, can we?"

The boss let out an exasperated sigh and turned around slowly on the couch to face Shaundi. "So let me guess; you're going to be doing my hair and makeup?"

Shaundi looked over her shoulder at the boss with a look that could only be described as menacing. "Of course I am," she smiled, "any problems with that?" Backpedaling now, the boss waved her hands frantically in front of her in surrender. "No, um, of course not! You, uh, you're great with makeup," It was best to prevent as much damage as possible at this point, no sense making things worse than they already were, she thought to herself. Seemingly satisfied, Shaundi strode over and placed her chosen tools out onto the table in front of the couch. It was then (after the immediate threat of violence had passed) that the boss noticed that Pierce and Oleg had taken that moment to make themselves scarce.

"_Cowards,_" she mentally snorted. The thought was soon pushed out of her head when she saw an object heading rapidly towards her eye from her peripherals. She scrambled back, pushing herself deeper into the couch cushions, alarmed.

"Whoa whoa whoa, Shaundi, hold up! I know we might have had our disagreements in the past, but is that any reason to stab me in the eye?" Exasperated, Shaundi pulled back, waving the black stick in front of the boss's face. "It's an eyeliner pencil, boss. Say it with me now, _eye-line-er_," she spoke slowly, as if to a child. "If you're going to blend in with the rest of those cyberpunk freaks, eyeliner is a must. You're not getting out of this one, boss." The head Saint had a sneaking suspicion that Shaundi was probably enjoying all of this a bit too much, but she got quiet, and for the better part of three hours she sat completely still as Shaundi went to work. After what seemed like ages of waiting, the boss was finally presented with a mirror.

"Tadaa! It's perfect," Shaundi exclaimed, grinning widely. "You look just like a Decker groupie now!"

That in and of itself worried the boss, but she swallowed the growing lump in her throat and grabbed the mirror from Shaundi's hand before she could chicken out. She barely recognized the person staring back at her in the mirror. The boss was never one to wear much makeup, but now her eyes were rimmed with layers upon layers of kohl, making them look unnaturally bright. Her lips were painted a slightly sheer shade of cobalt, "_Like I'm dying of hypothermia or something,"_ she thought offhandedly as she surveyed the rest of her face.

Shaundi had also made the boss look even paler than she already was with caked on powder. Something about Deckers going for pasty girls who looked like they spent as much time in dark basements as they did. The boss had rolled her eyes at that, the quip earning a rare smile from her. Her hair had been styled like a 50's pinup girl- lopsided, wavy, and hanging loose, but still somehow expertly coiffed. She had to hand it to Shaundi, the woman was great with a curler. The boss thanked whatever higher power that had been listening that she could at least keep some semblance of style and polish while going undercover as a punk burlesque dancer. Her hair had been dyed a dark bluish black temporarily, with lighter blue streaks interspersed through the side-swept bangs. And as a final touch, Shaundi had put a tiny black diamond stud in the boss's right nostril.

Overall, she decided, she looked pretty damn good for an over-glorified hooker.

Shaundi looked on in satisfied silence, noting that the boss hadn't thrown anything out a window yet- a good sign in her book. "So... what do you think, boss?" she finally asked.

Turning to face Shaundi with a growing smirk, she said, "Shaundi, I think that when I get up there on that stage, those poor Deckers won't know what hit them."

**A/N: And that's the first chapter! If you would like me to write more, please let me know. Or if you think this totally stinks, let me know as well. I'd appreciate all types of critique. Thanks very much!  
**

**-ramblingwords**


	2. Chapter 2: Fake It Until You Make It

**A/N: Alright I just went on a writing binge- two chapters in the span of one night. Probably terrible for my health but hey, hope you all enjoy. Thanks to kikiyo hatake for the first review, I appreciate it!**

**Chapter 2: Fake It Until You Make It**

As the black _Temptress_ rolled up to the curb a block and a half away from the entrance of Cyberlesque, the boss's previous confidence was quickly wearing off. She shifted restlessly in the passenger's seat, the rubbery material of the ridiculous bikini squeaking irritatingly against the car's upholstery. Turning her head towards Shaundi, she asked, "So… am I going to have a stage name or some shit like that? Anything else I need to know before I get in there and..." her face scrunched up slightly in distaste "…do my thing?" _Whatever the hell _that_ entails,_ she thought.

Shaundi absentmindedly fiddled with the small bug that would be attached to the boss through her duration in the club and finally said, "I've arranged for the manager of the place to meet you when you get in there. I've told him, under alias of course, that you're a great dancer and you've just moved to Steelport looking for job opportunities. Basically, I made you sound talented _and_ desperate- he won't be able to pass you up with that kind of background. Especially not if the Deckers take a liking to you tonight, which, I might add, is imperative for the success of our mission."

The boss cringed at that. She knew she could probably pull it off well enough, but it didn't mean she was going to _like_ it. The closer they had driven to the club, the more nauseous she had felt about the whole thing. It was one thing to go into a place like this, guns blazing and ready to take hostages, but it was an entirely different matter to get up in front of a bunch of Deckers in what was basically underwear and dance around for them. That wasn't really her style. But it was too late for "not my style"- Shaundi was already working on attaching the tiny bug to one of the stud earrings hidden under the sweep of the boss's hair. "Showtime," she said, once she was satisfied that the bug was secure. Once all the bugging equipment was set up, the Saint smiled weakly and hopped out of the parked car, striding forward towards her destination. As she approached the club, the base thumping louder and louder with each step she took, she could have sworn she heard a voice call from far behind her. It had sounded a lot like "_Break a leg!"_

"_With my luck,"_ she mused darkly, "_I probably will". _

Soon the base was loud enough to beat in time with her heart, and she knew she had arrived. She walked through a grungy alleyway to reach the back of the club, the electric tubing on her outfit providing little illumination in the darkness. Finally, she found the back door. She raised her hand and rapped on the door- three knocks in quick succession. However, just before the third knock landed, the door suddenly opened to reveal a balding, heavyset man in his late 40s looking extremely strung-out.

"You," he panted, looking more than a bit panicked, "are you the new girl from out of town?" The boss straightened up a bit and tried to appear like she was a confident dancer looking for a job. "Yes I am, and I'm here to work. What do you need me to do?" she asked, looked him straight in the eye- she could handle this. "Oh thank god," he gasped out, ushering her quickly inside, "we have a huge crowd tonight and they're pretty rowdy- they're keeping a lot of the girls that I had planned routines for busy out in the audience and I need replacements, stat. Do you think you could get up there and do some improv for a while, just to keep the audience occupied long enough for me to set up some other performances? "

The Saint could have sworn she felt the bile rise up in her throat the very second the man said that. "_I could have dealt with them if I was given enough time… talk about throwing me to the wolves right off the bat,"_ she thought, this _would_ happen the second she set foot in the place. But hell, what was the worst that could happen? "_Worst case scenario,_" she reflected, "_I get booed off stage and the Saints have to find another source of info on the Deckers. It sets us back a ways, but it's not the end of the world._" With that somewhat comforting thought in mind, she smiled in what she hoped was a charming manner and cooed, "Only if I get to pick the song. Let me up there, and I'll keep them distracted as long as you need."

The relief visibly washed over the man's face at that. "Oh thank you, thank you so much. You'll get paid right after the routine, I promise. Depending on how you do tonight, we'll see if we can get you a more permanent position here, too. We can work out all the details later; right now we need to get you in costume!"

She started at that. "Come again? I thought what I was wearing was good enough?"

The man laughed, "Oh dear, no! You need to wear some higher heels- not those clunky old boots. Also, we're going to need to get you something a little more flamboyant to cater to tonight's crowd. Your hair and makeup's fine already though. It's just that we've got some important local gang figures in here tonight and it's imperative that we impress them. I wouldn't be letting my best girls stay and mingle with the audience otherwise…" he all but grumbled the last part.

"Ah! Here we are," he exclaimed, pulling out a decidedly skimpy cybergoth getup, complete with sparking electric blue neon lights running along the boning and edges of the black latex corset leotard. "And, to fit the outfit, your stage name is going to be Livewire, got it? You need to remember that in case anyone wants an audience with you later." Those words were left hanging heavily in the air as the manager rummaged some more through the costume bins, tossing some shredded fishnet stockings, elbow high black latex fingerless gloves, and some high heeled combat boots with matching neon lights towards the Saint, who struggled to catch all the accessories while processing this information.

"_Gag, and just look at all this stuff! Oh, the things I do for my crew. Although getting an audience would be the best way to gather intel…" _the Saint thought as she made her way behind a dressing screen and struggled into the skintight corset. It was difficult, but worth it in the end when she saw what it did for her figure. Finally, when she was completely dressed, she tried to recall a song she knew well and could possibly dance to in a way that could be considered distracting.

As she left the dressing room and made her way into the dark wings of the stage, she found the manager waiting for her. She walked towards him and he gave her a once over, nodding in approval. "Good, that outfit suits you well. You should be able to turn a few heads up there in that. Have you chosen a song? You're going to be up there all by yourself, so make sure it's something you're comfortable with."

She just smiled- calm, collected, and stunning in black and neon blue on the surface. Underneath that exterior she could feel the anticipation threatening to bubble over. She walked up to the sound booth and gave her selection to the man seated there. He grinned, giving her a thumbs up and she smiled and winked in return. She was already getting into character.

All of a sudden, the music from the other performance faded, the lights dimmed down to darkness, and the curtain fell over the stage. The Saint took a calming breath as she felt the adrenaline flood her system just like it did before a shootout with a rival gang. "_This is just another battle,"_ she told herself. "_So knock them dead."_ Her internal pep-talk done, she strode to the center of the stage and leaned one hand lightly gripping, her weight balanced on one foot, hip jutting out in what she hoped was a seductive manner. "_God knows they've been drinking, by the sound of it. That should help me a bit, at least," _she laughed to herself, the raucous din outside only slightly muffled by the thick black velvet curtain.

Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she couldn't help but peek through the gap in the curtains from where she stood. _"Oh shit, that's a lot of Deckers. It's like the whole gang is here tonight or something."_ She shook her head lightly. "_Doesn't matter, your job is still the same. If anything, this raises my chances of getting valuable info."_ Her train of thought was cut abruptly short when the curtain began to rise up, and the music began its slow and inexorable crescendo.

Still shrouded in darkness, the lights of her costume started to pulse rhythmically to the baseline as she began to sway her body in time to the music. As the stage lights started to illuminate the stage, she ignored the catcalls she heard from the crowd and focused on the melody, the tempo, and most of all, the base pounding in time with her heart. Losing herself in the moment, the Saint danced like she was back at the crib partying with Shaundi and Pierce, trying to ignore the fact that in reality, she was surrounded by Deckers.

As the music picked up speed, she moved her hips and swayed with the beat, faster and faster, spinning dizzyingly around the pole, and even doing a few tricks Shaundi had shown her once on a drunken binge the two had gone on long ago. She started to really forget where she was, and was even beginning to enjoy herself. She came crashing down to reality however, once the music wound down, and eventually she was left standing there, staring out at the audience as the music quieted, the lights fading out along with it.

However, the lights didn't fade fast enough for the Saint to avoid locking eyes with someone in the crowd. Her fight or flight reflexes immediately kicked in, but she pushed them back down and stayed where she was. She had immediately recognized who those staring eyes had belonged to, and she almost welcomed the anonymity the curtain once again brought.

She had just caught the eye of Matt Miller, the leader of the Deckers.


End file.
